He listened
by sugarless5
Summary: Okay so I hate the title, but after the events of "Seeing Red," Buffy looks for comfort in a familiar place. Angel shows up to help her through. It's a good little fic. I hope, anyway.
1. Intro

**A/N: This is my first story published…um…anywhere, so I'm sort of testing my fanfiction legs. This story I have actually finished, so yay for me. But it's in a notebook and I have to go through and type it up. So boo for me**

**Also – This is sort of my take on what would happen if Buffy let herself be more of a victim after "Seeing Red." I don't know if I put that right, but... you'll see?It's not really AU per se, but I did sort of tweak a few things - Wes is still with AI, and Angel doesn't loathe him, which I think he did in cannon at this point. Also – Cody and Angel are not romantically interested in each other. **

Buffy sat on the floor in the bathroom feeling equal parts pain, betrayal and shame. All she could think was '_I should have seen this coming. He has no soul. Why am I surprised?_'

She barely registered Xander's entrance, looking up to see him holding Spike's jacket accusingly. "…Spike anymore?" she heard him say before taking in her appearance. Great, she thought, of course he would be the one to see her like this. She was about to get a big helping of I-told-you-so.

"Did he hurt you?" Her shame doubled as she heard the angry concern behind his words. She thought the worst of her best friend, but was betrayed when a soulless vampire tried to…

"He tried – he didn't," she hastened to assure him.

"Son of a bitch!" he said, turning, presumably to go after Spike. Oh God.

"Don't!" She didn't want a scene. She just wanted to forget this ever happened. "Just…don't."

Willow came in and Buffy hastened to cover herself up and wipe her tears away as Willow talked. She wasn't some victim and she'd be damned if she turned into an object of pity.

Willow finally took in Buffy's appearance on the floor of the bathroom. "What's wrong?"

_God no, ignore it and it'll be like it never happened. _"Nothing. What's up?"

* * *

Angel took his mug of blood out of the microwave and sipped it, pretending not to notice the barely concealed hatred in Connor's face.

He strolled out into the lobby, where the rest of his crew were scattered. "So, what's the-" He broke off as Cordy's head jerked back in one of her visions.

He and Gunn grabbed her as she squeezed their hands, waiting for the vision to be over. She finally stopped moving and turned to look at Angel, her eyes wide.

"What?" he asked, alarmed by her expression.

Cordy stared at him amoment longer before speaking. "what's good, I'll answer the what first."

Angel exchanged glances with the rest of the gang. "Um…okay. What?"

"This wasn't… um…"

"Cordy's at a loss for words. This must be big," said Gunn, earning himself an offhand swat.

"Okay, it's not a… something you're supposed to prevent. By the time you get there, the two big fights will be over. I mean, no one's gonna die. Well, not… I mean… you're not needed to fight."

Angel and Wesley looked at each other, clearly confused. "Then what am I needed for?" asked Angel.

"Since when were your visions so detailed?" asked Wesley.

"This one was different. Angel, you don't have to kill anything. You have to take care of her."

"Take care… How? Who?"

"Kind of… comfort? Um… deal with the fallout?

Comfort? Why would the Powers… wait. "Cody, WHO?!" he asked, desperately.

"Buffy."

**A/N: Just getting the intro out of the way here**


	2. Chapter 2

Angel had bolted up the stairs two at a time, leaving the rest of the gang gaping at each other.

"Who's Buffy?" asked Connor. Everyone was too stunned to answer.

"I don't understand," said Wesley. "The Powers have proven time and time again that they frankly don't care about Buffy's suffering."

"Who is Buffy?" Connor demanded.

"Vampire Slayer. Champion of the good. Love of your father's life," said Gunn, tersely.

"Big love, big sacrifice, big loss, big pain," added Cordelia.

"Think about all of the suffering Buffy has been through in her fight against evil," Wesley continued as if they hadn't spoken.

"My father, the vampire, was in love with a vampire slayer?" asked Connor incredulously.

Angel came hurtling down the stairs, bag in hand. Gunn raised his eyebrows at Angel's frantic pace. "What's the rush?" he asked. "Cordy said she survives her fights."

"I just have this really bad feeling. Sort of… empty," said Angel, rushing into the kitchen to grab a packet of blood. "It's making me really uneasy."

Cordelia's eyebrows shot way up. "You can sense Buffy's emotions?"

"I don't know, I never have before but…" he trailed off. For the first time since he heard Buffy's name, he hesitated as he looked at Connor. "I'm sorry to leave like this but…"

A still bemused Connor just nodded. Without another word, Angel was gone.

"I don't think 'was' is the right word, kid," said Gunn. At Connor's questioning look, Gunn grinned. "You father is _still_ in love with a vampire slayer.

* * *

Some time later, as the AI crew remained scattered across the lobby, doing mostly busy work (none of them wanted to leave in case Angel called – all were too curious to miss any news) Wesley spoke up.

"This still doesn't make any sense. The Powers have shown a complete disregard for Buffy's feelings, her sacrifices, even her life. She sacrificed herself to save the world last year and we didn't hear anything from them. Why now?"

"She was supposed to be at peace," said Cordy.

Everyone looked at her.

"Remember what Giles said before he left? After all her suffering, the PTB's were finally going to let her rest in peace for the first time in her…well… life probably isn't a good word for it. But she got unwillingly ripped out of there by her… friends."

Fred and Gunn looked shocked, but Wes simply nodded, remembering his phone call with Giles before the older Watcher left. "Of course, so I suppose the Powers might take an interest where they never have before, but sending Angel to comfort her? That doesn't sound like them."

"Maybe it's not just a comfort mission," Fred piped in. "Maybe he's being sent there to prevent something. Maybe she's going to try to hurt herself."

"Cordy looked at Wes in alarm. Wesley thought for a moment before shaking his head. "I find that very unlikely. Buffy's will to live, her determination, her… fire, if you wish to be poetic about it, is stronger by far than anyone I've ever met. Her attempting to take her own life, unless it's in an attempt to save another's, of course, is inconceivable."

"Yeah, but that was then," said Connor. He shifted uncomfortably as everyone looked at him in surprise.

"What do you mean?" asked Fred.

"Well, I don't know anything about this girl, but from what you said, it sounds like the only time she was… at peace, or whatever, was when she was dead." He shrugged, not wanting to be involved, but unable to help himself. "It seems kind of ridiculous to think she still has such a strong will to live."

Wesley looked troubled. "I don't know that I would be alarmed quite yet. It's been theorized that the reason she was such a successful slayer for so long is her strong ties to the people around her: her friends, her family. There's a theory that they keep her fighting."

"You mean like the mother that died, Angel, who's been here, and her Watcher who left?" asked Gunn.

Wesley looked more alarmed. "There's still Xander, Willow and Dawn," he said.

"3 people? Everyone else is gone and 3 people are all that tie her to the world that made her suffer?" Connor asked despite himself.

"I think you underestimate.-" Wesley began until Cordy grabbed his arm.

"I my vision, I felt her. She felt so alone."

* * *

"Oh, come on!" Buffy moaned as Warren flew away. She exchanged glances with Jonathan as Andrew, the dunce, hit the overhang and crashed to the ground. As Jonathan shrieked in outrage, she heard police cars pull up.

Having done all she could there, she turned to leave, only to realize she had nowhere to go. She couldn't bring herself to go home. Though she desperately needed to soak her battered body in a hot tub, she couldn't bring herself to go back to her bathroom.

Besides, she didn't want to risk facing Xander, because he knew what almost happened. `She didn't want to face Willow or Dawn because they _didn't_ know what almost happened. God, what was wrong with her?

She considered going through some of the cemeteries; a good fight usually put her to rights. But she just felt too weary to fight. She felt so weary, down to her very bones.

Besides, she didn't want to run into Spike in one of the cemeteries. She wasn't ready to see him; she wasn't ready to hear his voice; she wasn't ready to hear him fall all over himself apologizing, and she certainly wasn't ready to have to be the one comforting him in his anguish.

Without realizing it, her feet started taking her to Angel's old mansion.


	3. Chapter 3

Angel's car skidded to a halt in front of Buffy's house. He got out of the car and ran to the front door, knocking in two rapid, urgent knocks. His dread had only increased on the way over, though he had tried to tamp it down. 'Buffy's strong,' He kept telling himself. 'She's a fighter. You're just here for comfort."

Willow opened the door. "Angel!" She said in surprise. "What brings you here? Well, that's a silly question, but Buffy's out-"

"Where?" He interrupted urgently.

"She's out taking down an evil geek trio – long story – but you can wait here if you want. She should be-"

"Deadboy?" Xander came to the door. "Just great. I think she's had enough of guys like you right now, so why don't you just get back in your car and-"

Xander was cut off as Angel grabbed him by the shirt. "Just tell me where she is!" he growled.

Willow looked alarmed. "What's wrong? Did your friend have another vision?"

Angel let go of Xander and ran an impatient hand through his hair. "Yes – no, not – well, yes-"

"Which is it, yes or no?" said Xander.

"Yes." He bit out. "I just need to see her.

* * *

Buffy wandered through the mansion, taking in memories both beautiful and painful. She opened his closet, surprised to find a couple of shirts still in there. She shouldn't be, she guessed. He didn't hire moving trucks; he just packed a bag and left.

She pulled out one of his shirts and wrapped it around her. It had been years since he'd been there, but she swore it still smelled just the littlest bit like him.

She wandered aimlessly until she came upon his weapons storage. Idly wondering if he left any weapons behind, she opened it, not surprised to find a smattering of his lesser favored ones.

'How very like him,' she thought. 'Can't fit it in my neat little bag? Just leave it behind to collect dust. Maybe someone will pick it up someday, maybe not.'

She groaned at the uncharitable direction of her thoughts. She picked up one of the knives, feeling its comforting weight before taking it along with her to the bedroom.

* * *

Angel ran to the location Willow and Xander had told him. He found a departing police car, but no Buffy. He kicked the side of the building in frustration. Damnit! She hadn't gone home or she would have passed him.

He paced for a minute, tamping down his panic, bringing himself under control. The fight was obviously over, but Cordy said she didn't need him for the fight. He was only there for comfort. So why was he so scared? 'Think, Angel, think!" he urged himself, virtually pulling out his hair.

Wait a minute. He was a vampire! He sniffed the air experimentally, then began to follow his nose towards… the mansion?

* * *

"How could we not have known she was in so much pain?" asked Cordelia.

"A minute ago you were wondering why you were notified at all, now you're wondering why it wasn't sooner?" Connor sneered.

"I don't mean the PTB's. Willow called when Joyce died; why didn't she call when Buffy's so bad off she's thinking of offing herself?"

"Maybe they didn't notice," said Gunn. "Maybe they have their own stuff going on."

"They're not that-" Cordy began.

"Not that what? Self absorbed?" Connor snorted. "They were selfish enough to pull her out of heaven-"

"How were they supposed to know where she was?" Fred challenged.

"She died saving the world and they honestly thought-?"

GUYS!" shouted Wesley. They quieted down. "It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that Angel is able to get there in time."

"Okay, back to why the Powers got involved," said Gunn. "Not that it wouldn't be terrible if Buffy died, but as far as they're concerned, she should be dead. Resting. If she kills herself, she will be. Why are they so desperate to prevent that?"

Wes thought for a moment, before it dawned on him. "Many religions say that if you commit suicide, your soul goes automatically to hell," he said.

"Oh god, that makes sense," said Cordy. "The PTB's don't care how much she suffers, and they may not really care if she dies, but even they won't let her spend an eternity in torment after everything she's done."

"So if Angel doesn't get there in time, she's going to hell?" said Fred.

**A/N Whew, sorry, I know it's been kind of a slow moving thing, but the next chapter is my absolute favorite. Is when we finally get down to the meat, and essentially the reason I wrote this fic. For some reason, I just felt like I had to spend a few chapters explaining myself first. Unfortunately, it's also a pretty long one, and I don't feel like typing it all out tonight. Maybe tomorrow if I'm not too tired. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed – since I'm so new at this, it's nice to get some encouragement. And since I'm so lazy, it's good motivation to keep going!**

**Okay, so about this chapter. I just wanted to throw it out there that I love and adore fierce, angry, protective, grrrr Angel as much as anyone (whew boy do I) but he's not in this story. It's about comfort, remember? So it's all tender, not growly and possesive, as much as I enjoy that.  
**

Angel raced into the mansion. She was here – he could feel her. Tearing through the place, he finally found her in the bedroom. His heart would have stopped, had it been beating.

She lay on the bed, wrapped in his shirt, curled into the tiniest ball her body could form. Her eyes were closed, and for a moment, he thought she was asleep, until he saw the tears still streaming down her cheeks. Her hand clutched one of his old knives as if it were a lifeline.

"Buffy!" he cried, as he ran to her and seized her by her shoulders, shaking her roughly. "Did you…?" he couldn't bring himself to say it, so he settled for checking her all over to see if she'd used the knife on herself and finding only cuts and bruises that most likely came from her earlier fights.

Then, he noticed her struggling against his hands, crying "Stop! Stop! Don't touch me!" He backed up immediately, holding his hands up in surrender, his eyes wide.

She just stared at him in shock. Her tears had stopped flowing, but he could see them still gathering in her eyes. "Angel?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Can I, uh, sit on the bed?" he asked cautiously. His heart broke again as he saw her stiffen. "I…" he swallowed a lump in his throat, "I promise I won't touch you."

Buffy hesitated, then nodded. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down silently, careful not to touch her at all. He gripped his hands and waited.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said after a minute of silence.

"Okay," he said.

They sat in silence for another minute or two before- "Angel?"

"Yes?"

"Could you…" she swallowed. "Could you hold me?" she asked in a quivering voice.

Angel said a silent thank you to God, the Powers, or anyone else who was listening as he opened his arms to her. She climbed over and settled herself across his lap. He cradled her in his arms, alarmed by how thin she felt.

She broke out into heaving sobs against his chest and before long, she was talking – spilling her guts and pouring her heart out about absolutely everything. He asked few questions, mostly letting her talk. He held her; he rocked her; he stroked her hair; he soothed her, but most of all, he listened.

Her words ran out. Then, her tears dried up. Not long after that, her breath evened, before settling into a deep, steady rhythm. She had fallen asleep against the hard wall of his chest.

* * *

Angel scrubbed a hand over his face a few minutes later. Part of him wanted to just stay there, holding her forever. Another part of him seethed in fury, wanting to get up, tear out Spike's spine and beat him with it, before pummeling this Warren guy and maybe even roughing up the Scoobies a little.

He knew he should call his office and call Buffy's house so they didn't run off looking for her or something.

He looked down at a finally peaceful Buffy. He didn't want to wake her. She looked like she needed a good rest badly. But he didn't want her to wake up alone either. The dilemma was seemingly taken out of his hands as his phone rang loudly. It took him a minute to find and silence it. Buffy groaned and stirred. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

"Hey," he said, "I need to make a phone call or two, but I'll still be here."

She raised her head, sleep still in her eyes. "Promise?" she mumbled, still more asleep than not.

"Promise," he said. She grunted something that sounded like "Good," but her head dropped back onto his chest and her arms didn't move from around him.

Chuckling slightly, he eased himself away from her, giving her a pillow to cuddle in his place. He stood, looking down at her for a moment before unbuttoning his shirt and draping it over her. He loved the way she smiled as she breathed in his scent.

Going into another room, he first called L.A., telling his people that he found her, that she was okay, and that he still didn't know how long he would be staying. Next, he called her house, telling a very confused Willow that she was with him, she was okay, and she was sleeping off the battle.

Angel opened his packet of blood and thought again of how thin Buffy was. Picking up his phone again, he ordered what he hoped was still her favorite Chinese dish. He hung up the phone and heard movement behind him. Turning around, he saw a very rumpled looking Buffy in the doorway, still wearing his shirt over her clothes.

"I'm sorry, I tried not to wake you," he said.

"No, it's okay," she said. "I just woke up and I-I wanted to be sure you weren't a dream."

He gave her one of his half smiles. "No, it's me. How you feeling?"

She groaned. "Like I've been hit by a truck. Repeatedly."

His lips quirked. "I ordered some Chinese for you, but while we wait, why don't I draw you a bath? Will and the others know you're okay, so there's no rush to get you back. I mean, if you don't want to."

Her eyes almost filled up with tears again. She latched on to the first part of his statement. "You ordered Chinese?"

"Beef and broccoli without the broccoli, 2 spring rolls, wonton soup, and fried rice for you to snack on later. And I'll be watching to make sure you eat enough."

"You remembered."

Angel shrugged. "I remember everything," he said. He wrapped his arms around her and they stayed that way, until he ran his hand down her back and felt her wince in pain.

"I'm going to get that bath started for you," he said.

When he came back, he found her standing in the exact same position he left her in. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"Well you heard the way I've been feeling, the way I've been acting, what I've done, what's happened. I'm- I'm damaged goods, and you're acting like it's the most normal-"

"Wait a second. Damaged goods? You know who you're talking to, right?"

"But, with Spike-"

Angel stepped closer to her, his calm, gentle demeanor belying the dark fire in his eyes at the mention of Spike. "You make absolutely certain you understand this. You are not to blame for Spike's actions – not in any way. You made your intentions clear. The responsibility for his actions lies with him and only with him."

"Angel, it's not just that," Buffy said, needing him to understand. "I'm…I'm not the light, happy Buffy you knew."

"Hey," he said, his hand coming up to cup her face. "I love you. All of you. Light, happy Buffy, dark, angsty Buffy, standing on her head Buffy – even covered in slime Buffy."

She smiled a little.

"So you're at a bad point right now. Maybe you've done some things you regret. That just makes you human. The fact that, after all you've been through and regardless of how low you felt, you were still out there tonight, fighting the good fight, even if - no, _especially_ if you didn't want to – that's part of what makes you extraordinary. Part of what makes you Buffy."

* * *

Buffy ruminated on his words as she soaked in the deliciously hot water. She knew how he would grimace if he knew how closely his speech resembled Riley's words not too long ago.

The fact that he had seen her at her lowest and still believed in her – still loved her, despite all of the changes she's gone through, made her _feel._ For so long, her only feelings had been pain and self-loathing. Now she felt a small part of her old strength – her old sense of self. It wasn't much, but maybe she didn't have to be so lost anymore.

The door opened and Angel came in, his arms full of towels and his eyes squeezed shut. She felt the now-unfamiliar urge to laugh.

"To the left," she directed him. He crashed into the sink and vanity and she couldn't help but chuckle as he let out a growl. "Sorry. My left," she said.

He was elated to hear her laugh again. She shifted in the tub and his eyes flew open of their own accord as she hissed in pain. Her back was to him as she reached for soap on her other side. Deep bruises were forming across her mid to lower back, but it was the set of her shoulders that told him how painful it was.

He dropped to his knees by the tub, not thinking until he saw her tense up. "I promise I won't touch you in any inappropriate way, but I want to help you with your back. Is that okay?" he asked, mentally slapping himself. Laying a hand on Naked Buffy was a terrible idea.

"Of course," she said, relaxing. "Sorry, it was just the sudden movement. Of course I trust you."

Mentally berating himself for following through with this terrible idea, he dipped a washcloth into the steamy water and gently tended to her back. Watching the play of her muscles to see where it hurt and what soothed it away.

"What happened?" he asked, partially to distract himself from her nudity.

"Well a vamp cracked it over a gravestone on patrol, then Spike cracked it over the tub when… later. Then Jonathan jumped on my back as I was getting my ass handed to me by Warren."

"All in one night? Jeez," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder in sympathy. Her naked shoulder. Oh God. She turned to him and looked into his eyes. Buffy was naked in a tub. He was _not_ going to kiss her.

He stared at her lips. The lips that he was emphatically _not_ going to kiss. Terrible idea. He looked back to her eyes, because he was definitely not going to kiss her lips.

She was staring at his mouth. Oh God.

Against his will, he started drifting closer to her, like a moth to a flame. Or a bug, to one of those bug zappers. Except that wasn't a very flattering analogy to either of them, and he'd obviously been spending way too much time with Cordelia and, oh God, his lips were just a whisper away from hers.

They both jumped as they heard a knock at the door. He started to back away as if she were a wild animal.

"That's probably the food," he said, still backing up. "I should…"

He didn't even finish his sentence as he fled the room.

* * *

Some time later they sat in front of the fireplace, Buffy looking tiny, wrapped head to foot in both his shirt and a towel.

Angel sat with his mug, watching, as promised, to be sure she ate enough. He told her about his team in L.A., about how well she would get along with Gunn, how Fred reminded him of Willow, and she wouldn't even recognize Cordy and Wes.

Afraid she would only stay as long as the conversation was going, he took a huge risk and told her about Darla and Connor. He saw the pain flash across her face at the news of baby Connor, but only grabbed her hand across the table, urging her to eat with her other as he continued the story.

Much to his relief, she smiled a little at the end of his tale. "Who'd have thought 3 years ago that we'd both be single parents of teenage kids who hate us?"

He chuckled a bit at the absurdity before sobering. "Dawn doesn't hate you, Buffy."

"I think it depends on the day." She looked at him. "Thank you for not shielding me from that."

"I was worried about telling you."

"I know," she said. "And while I'm sorry you had to go through all that, it feels nice to connect with someone who understands the… the dark place."

He nodded. "All too well."

"So, I guess you need to go back to L.A.?" she asked.

"Not if I'm needed here."

She smiled at him. "I think I can take it from here, if you can promise not to wait for an emergency to call me."

He smiled. "I'll call you once a week if you call me once a week."

"Deal." She touched his cheek. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Of course," he said. "You're still my girl."

"Always."

**A/N: I added a few parts as I was typing it up, so it may not flow as nicely as it originally did, but I tried to keep the flow as natural seeming as I could while hitting all the points I was trying to hit. I think it's only spotty in a few areas. **

**Please read and review – it's just nice to hear something, you know? **


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